Invisible Influence Read online

  To test whether people conformed because the answer was uncertain, Asch devised a different experiment. Rather than putting people in a situation where the answer was unclear, he wanted to see what they would do when the answer was obvious. When people could easily tell the correct answer right away and thus would have no need to rely on others.

  The line-length task was a perfect choice. Even those with poor eyesight could tell the correct answer. They might have to squint a little, but it was right there in front of them. There was no need to rely on anyone else.

  Asch thought that when the answer was clear, conformity would be reduced. Drastically. To provide an even stronger test, Asch rigged the group’s responses.

  There was always one real participant, but Asch filled the rest of the room with actors. Each actor gave predetermined responses. Sometimes they gave the right answer, picking the line on the right that was the same as the one on the left. But on other preselected trials, all of them gave the same wrong answer, saying “Line B,” for example, when the answer was clearly line C.

  Asch used the line task because he assumed it would reduce conformity. Real participants could see the right answer, so it shouldn’t matter that others gave the wrong response. People should act independently and go with what they saw. Maybe a couple participants would waver once in a while, but for the most part people should give the right answer.

  They didn’t.

  Not even close.

  Conformity was rampant. Around 75 percent of participants conformed to the group at least once. And while most people didn’t conform on every trial, on average, people conformed a third of the time.

  Even though people’s own eyes told them the correct answer, they went along with the group. Even when they could clearly tell that the group was incorrect.

  Solomon Asch was wrong and Sherif was right. Even when the answer is clear, people still imitate others.2

  THE POWER OF CONFORMITY

  Imagine a hot day. Really hot. So sweltering that the birds won’t even sing. You’re parched, so you drop into a local fast-food restaurant to grab a cold drink. You walk up to the counter and the clerk asks what you’d like.

  What generic term would you use if you wanted a sweetened carbonated beverage? What would you say to the clerk? If you had to fill in the blank “I’d like a ____________, please,” how would you do it?

  People’s answers depend a lot on where they grew up. New Yorkers, Philadelphians, or people from the northeastern United States would ask for a “soda.” But Minnesotans, Midwesterners, people who grew up in the Great Plains region of the country would probably ask for a “pop.” And people from Atlanta, New Orleans, and much of the South would ask for a “Coke.” Even if they wanted a Sprite.

  (For fun, try ordering a Coke next time you’re in the South. The clerk will ask you what kind, and then you can tell them a Sprite, Dr Pepper, root beer, or even a regular Coke.)I

  Where we grow up, and the norms and practices of people around us, shape everything from the language we use to the behaviors we engage in. Kids adopt their parents’ religious beliefs and college students adopt their roommates’ study habits. Whether making simple decisions, like which brand to buy, or more consequential ones, like which career path to pursue, we tend to do as others around us do.

  The tendency to imitate is so fundamental that even animals do it.

  Vervets are small, cute monkeys found mostly in South Africa. Similar in size to a small dog, they have light-grey bodies, black faces, and a fringe of white around their stomachs. The monkeys live in groups of ten to seventy individuals, with males striking out on their own and changing groups once they reach sexual maturity.

  Scientists often study vervets because of their humanlike characteristics. The monkeys display hypertension, anxiety, and even social and abusive alcohol consumption. Like humans, most prefer drinking in the afternoon, rather than morning, but heavy drinkers will drink even in the morning and some will even drink until they pass out.

  In one clever study, researchers conditioned wild vervets to avoid certain foods.3 Scientists gave the monkeys two trays of corn, one containing pink corn and the other blue corn. For one group of monkeys, the scientists soaked the pink corn in a bitter, repulsive liquid. For another group of monkeys, the researchers flipped the colors—blue tasted bad and pink normal.

  Gradually, the monkeys learned to avoid whichever color tasted bad. The first group of monkeys avoided the pink corn while the other group avoided the blue. Just like soda in the Northeast and pop in the Midwest, local norms had been created.

  But the scientists weren’t just trying to condition the monkeys, they were interested in social influence. What would happen to new, untrained monkeys who joined each group?

  To see what would happen, the researchers took the colored corn away and waited a few months until new baby monkeys were born. Then, they placed trays of pink and blue corn in front of the monkeys. Except this time they removed the bad taste. Now the pink corn and the blue corn both tasted fine.

  Which would the baby monkeys choose?

  Pink and blue corn were just as tasty, so the baby monkeys should have gone after both. But they didn’t. Even though the infants weren’t around when one color of corn tasted bitter, they imitated the other members of their group. If their mothers avoided the blue corn, they did the same. Some babies even sat on the avoided color to eat the other, ignoring it as potential food.

  Conformity was so strong that monkeys who switched groups also switched colors. Some older male monkeys happened to change groups during the study. Some moved from the Pink Avoiders to the Blue Avoiders, and vice versa. And as a result, these monkeys also changed their food preferences. Switchers adopted the local norm, eating whichever color was customary among their new group.

  We might have grown up calling carbonated fizzy beverages “soda,” but move to a different region of the country and our language starts to shift. A couple years surrounded by people calling it “Coke” and we might find ourselves doing the same. Monkey see, monkey do.

  WHY PEOPLE CONFORM

  A few years ago, I flew to San Francisco for a consulting project. If you’ve been to the Bay Area, you know that on any given day the climate can be quite variable. Summers tend not to be that hot and winters don’t get terribly cold. But on any particular day, it’s hard to know what you’re going to get. San Francisco can easily be 70 degrees in November and 50 degrees in July. Indeed, a famous quote about the city—commonly (but erroneously) attributed to Mark Twain—is that “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.”

  My trip happened to take place in November. Since I was traveling from the East Coast, I’d brought my heavy winter coat. But as I got ready to go out that first morning in San Francisco, I faced a dilemma: Should I wear my coat or not? I checked the weather report, which suggested the temperature would be somewhere in the high 50s to low 60s, but I still wasn’t sure. That sounded right on the margin between warm and cold. How to decide?

  Rather than just guessing myself, I used a time-tested trick: I looked out the window to see what other people were wearing.

  When we’re not sure about the right thing to do, we look to others to help us figure it out. Imagine looking for a parking spot. After driving around for what seems like forever, you find a whole side of a street free of cars. Success! But excitement quickly turns to concern: If no one else parked here, maybe I shouldn’t, either. There might be street cleaning or some special event that makes parking there illegal.

  If there are even a couple other cars parked on the street, though, the concern disappears. You feel more confident you’ve found a legitimate spot.

  Trying to sort out which dog food to buy or which preschool to send your child to? Knowing what others have done provides insight into what might be best for you. Talking to other dog owners who have similar breeds will help you figure out the right food option for your dog’s size and energy level. Talking to other p
arents will help you figure out which schools have a good student-teacher ratio and provide the right mix of learning and play.

  Just as people relied on others to help them figure out how much the light moved in the dark room, we often rely on others to provide a useful source of information that helps us make better decisions.

  Using others as information sources saves us time and effort. Rather than giving Fido a new brand of food every week, or spending days reading up on the minutiae of all the preschools in the area, others provide a useful shortcut. A heuristic that simplifies decision making. If other people do it, choose it, or like it, it must be good.

  * * *

  But as the experiment about the length of lines demonstrates, imitation is about more than just information. Even when we know the answer, others’ behavior can still have an impact. And the reason is social pressure.

  Think about going out to dinner at a nice restaurant with a group of colleagues from work. Business has been great recently, so the boss takes everyone out to celebrate. Some New American place that puts nouveau touches on old favorites. Everything from lobster mac and cheese to un-sloppy Joes made with ahi tuna instead of pork. The appetizers were good, the entrées stellar, and everyone is enjoying a fun evening of drinks and conversation.

  Then the time comes to order coffee and dessert. This restaurant is known for their sweets. The key lime pie looks great, but so does the double chocolate cake. Tough choice! You decide to let someone else order first while you mull over the options.

  But then something funny happens. No one else wants dessert.

  Your first colleague begs off, saying she’s too full, and a second colleague says no because he’s trying to lose weight. Then, one by one, each person around the table declines.

  The waiter gets to you. “Dessert?” he asks.

  This situation is a lot like Asch’s line-length study. You know what you want—to order dessert, the chocolate cake and the key lime pie—just like you knew which line was the correct one. So it’s not like other people provide any useful information that helps you make a better decision. But even so, you still feel as though you should pass.

  Most people like being liked. We want to be accepted or at least not excluded. If not by everyone, then at least by the people we care about. Anyone who has ever been picked last for a basketball game or left off the invite list to a wedding knows that being left out doesn’t feel good.

  The same is true for ordering dessert. Sure, you could be the only one to order a tasty treat. There’s no law that says you can’t eat dessert alone. And yet you feel weird about being the only one ordering. Like people will think you’re selfish, or that you’ll stand out in a bad way.

  So in most cases, people go along. They skip dessert because everyone else passed. Just to be part of the group.

  But in addition to information and social pressure there’s also one more reason people conform.

  CHAMELEONS AND THE SCIENCE OF MIMICRY

  Sometimes I look in the mirror and see someone else’s face staring back at me.

  Most people look like a mix of their parents. Their father’s nose and their mom’s eyes. Their dad’s jawline and their mother’s hair.

  When I look in the mirror, though—particularly when I’ve just gotten a haircut—I see my brother. Only five years apart, we look a lot alike. Similar facial structure, similar mouth. My hair is curlier and lighter than his, but we have a lot of the same features.

  Genes obviously play a big role. If two people have the same parents, much of their genetic makeup is similar. Depending on which characteristics are expressed, siblings can end up looking like mirror images.

  Genetics aren’t the only reason siblings look similar, though, because married couples actually resemble one another as well. Even though spouses aren’t related, their faces look alike. Compare two married people with two people selected at random and the married people look more similar.

  Part of this similarity is driven by assortative mating. People tend to marry others of similar ages, nationalities, and racial backgrounds. Swedes tend to marry Swedes, twenty-year-olds tend to marry twenty-year olds, and South Africans tend to marry South Africans. Birds of a feather flock together, as they say.

  Further, people tend to like others that look like them. If you have an oval face or prominent cheekbones, you tend to find other people with oval faces or prominent cheekbones more attractive. Just like the idea of mere exposure we talked about previously.

  All this pushes people toward marrying others that look at least a little like them.

  But that’s not the end of the story. Because over time, partners’ similarity heightens even more. Couples may have started out looking vaguely similar, but as the years go by, the resemblance gets even stronger. It’s like two faces morphing into one. By their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, married people look more and more like proverbial peas in a pod.

  And while one could attribute this to age, or shared environment, even controlling for these factors, married people still look more similar than one might expect.

  Instead, there is a more subtle mechanism at play.4 When we feel happy, sad, or any number of other emotions, our faces contort to match our feelings. We smile when we’re happy, frown when we’re sad, and knit our eyebrows when we’re angry.

  While any particular emotional expression is fleeting, years of repeated expressions leave their mark on our faces. Crow’s-feet, or the tiny wrinkles that form on the outside corners of the eyes, are often called laugh lines because of their association with smiling. It’s like folding a piece of paper. The more times you fold it, the deeper the creases become.

  But our emotions are not independent. We tend to mimic, or imitate, the emotional expressions of those around us. If your friend laughs while telling a joke, you’ll probably laugh as well. And if they share a sad story, your face registers sadness too.

  Emotional mimicry is particularly prevalent among married couples. Partners spend a lot of time looking at, and listening to, one another. Hearing what happened at work or empathizing over how frustrating it must have been that the store closed early.

  As a result, partners don’t just share space and food, they share emotions. They laugh together, cry together, and even get angry together. We might get laugh lines from telling lots of jokes, but our partners are getting those same lines from listening. Years of making the same expressions, at the same time, leave small, but similar, traces on our faces.II Mimicry has made us look similar.

  * * *

  Chameleons are amazing creatures. Unlike most animals, whose eyes move in concert, a chameleon’s eyes move independently, allowing them to see almost 360 degrees. Chameleons’ tongues are equally impressive. They can be twice a chameleon’s body length and when catching prey, lash out at almost 15 miles per hour.

  What chameleons are most known for, though, is their ability to change color. To shift their body coloration in response to their environment.5

  Humans actually do something similar. We may not change our skin color, but we mimic the facial expressions, gestures, actions, and even language of the people around us.6

  We smile when others smile, wince when we see others in pain, and say “ya’ll” when talking to a friend from Texas. If we happen to be sitting in a meeting where someone touches their face or crosses their legs, we’re more likely to touch our face or cross our legs as well. All without realizing that we’re doing it.

  Mimicry starts almost from the day we’re born. Two-day-old babies cry in response to another baby’s crying7 and mimic the emotional expressions of their caregivers. Seeing someone stick out their tongue leads young kids to do the same.

  And all this imitation happens nonconsciously. We don’t deliberately lean back in our chair if someone else does the same, and we don’t try to speak with a Texas drawl just because a friend does.

  But even though we may not realize it, we are constantly and automatically imitating the actions of those aro
und us. Subtly moving, posturing, and acting in ways that mirror our interaction partners. And they are doing the same for us.

  * * *

  The neurological underpinnings of mimicry would never have been discovered, though, if it weren’t for an ice cream cone.

  One hot day in Parma, Italy, a macaque monkey sat in his cage in the corner of a neuroscience laboratory, waiting for researchers to come back from lunch. The monkey was hooked up to a big machine and thin electrodes ran from its brain, registering neural activity. The electrodes focused on the premotor cortex, a region involved in planning and initiating movement. In particular, an area related to actions involving the hands and mouth.

  Every time the monkey moved its hands, or mouth, tiny related brain cells would fire, and a sound would register on a monitor.8 When the monkey raised its hand, the monitor went bliip, blip. When the monkey reached out to bring something to its mouth: bliip, bliip . . . bliip. The sound echoed through the lab.

  So far, the study was going pretty much as expected. Premotor neurons were firing whenever the monkey engaged in various movements. With every action, a loud bliip emanated from the machine. The scientists left the equipment on and went to grab a bite to eat.

  One of the graduate students returned eating an ice cream cone. He held the cone out in front of him, almost like a microphone.

  The monkey looked on with interest. Gazing longingly at the cone.

  But then something unusual happened. As the student raised the cone to his lips, the monitor went off. Bliip, blip, it sounded.

  But the monkey wasn’t moving.

  The grad student walked closer and again moved the ice cream toward his mouth. Bliip, bliip, screamed out the monitor. If the monkey was immobile, why were brain regions associated with planning and initiating movement firing?